


a prayer for which no words exist

by lecs



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Character study of Sana, F/M, mentions of islamophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 21:45:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10648674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecs/pseuds/lecs
Summary: The assignment is to write about your biggest fear.





	a prayer for which no words exist

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not from Norway. I am not Muslim. I kept descriptions vague and bracketed them in between triple stars (***) and I tried to portray Sana as we've seen her so far in season 4 but please let me know if this is in anyway inappropriate or overstepping. That is not my intention. I'm just loving Sana's season so far so I hope this is okay!

_“he reaches over and he touches you, like **a prayer for which no words exist** , and you feel your heart taking root in your body, like you’ve discovered something you don’t even have a name for.” -siken_

~

The assignment is to write about your biggest fear.

Sana listens to I Feel It Coming through her headphones, tapping her fingers idly against the keys on her laptop, only having her name and the date typed at the top. 

Biggest fear. Easy.

She rolls her eyes at herself, minimizing the word document and clicking on Instagram instead. An hour ago, Eva posted a picture of her and Vilde in some store, trying on pairs of sunglasses and different hats, smiling wide and bright and beautiful for the camera. 

Sana bites the inside of her cheek, eyeing her phone sitting on the desk next to her laptop, black and silent. As it’s been all day save for her prayer reminders.

She clicks to comment, _looks like fun_ but then deletes every letter slowly. Likes the picture instead.

~

She can’t listen to The Next Episode without the embarrassment filling her up, hot and terrible and bitter. 

She made the shot. She always makes the shot. She knew she would, all of the boys knew she would, that was never a question. Just not at the right time, not according to the rules.

_“Slave woman.”_

Sana slams 5 cups of tea on to the counter, her eyes closing, fighting with herself to get a grip. He didn't mean it, Elias is not intentionally cruel, just careless in the moment.

Yousef’s small smile and kind eyes fill her mind. She sighs. She should have just kept walking, gone to her room, turned back around and left, but. She'd wanted. And now he's seen her fail.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid girl,” she mutters to herself as the kettle begins to whistle. 

~

Sana stays at the party for another hour before she texts Elias that she’s headed home. 

She’s just tired. 

Noora’s smile flashes through her thoughts as she stumbles around trying to find her left shoe in the mess of boots and trainers and purses and _You don’t like hanging with us, do you?_

Her throat feels tight, so very tight, the pained gasp that slips through her lips masked by the music and laughter behind her and. She mentally shakes herself.

She’s tired. And she just needs some sleep, it’ll be fine. She just needs some air, some breathing space, to be somewhere else for awhile.

A few balloons have bobbed their way to her and after she yanks her shoes on, her bag over her shoulder, phone in hand, she grabs a few of their strings as an afterthought.

She kicks the sidewalk as she walks, the night cool and calm and quiet around her and Sana’s chest feels lighter with every step. She looks up at the balloons above her, remembering Vilde looking so effortlessly beautiful with her face tilted up to the sky, the colors reflected on her skin, like she was about to be lifted away. Like she belonged in the sky. Like they all did, their laughter and smiles easy and carefree and light. 

Noora playing with the string of a balloon and smiling beautifully at a boy who sat close to her, to hear her, to smile at her and laugh with her. A boy who chose her.

They were all filled with so much light and Sana. 

Sana is tired.

Elias texts her back _Can you leave the light on?? Be safe. Love you_

_Sure. You too. Love you too._

Sana ties the strings of her balloons together, letting them drift through her fingers and up up up to the black sky.

Sana watches them fly away, her feet firmly on the ground.

~

Sometimes she feels like there are multiple worlds inside of her. Worlds she has to keep ordered and separate.

She prays and prays and prays and always comes away from it feeling calm and settled. It is for her and her alone.

She hangs out with her friends and texts with Isak and tries not to think of a boy with a kind smile and kinder eyes. She shares pieces of herself with them carefully, never revealing more than she has to. Wondering what that would feel like, to be with someone who knew her, really knew her and saw her and accepted the whole of her.

Her brother asks about her friends, about her russ, about her life at Nissen, like he has any right to it. Like he’s ever been interested before.

Elias texts her from across the house, asking her to come to the living room. Yousef and Mikael are there as well, asking her to watch one of their new videos.

“I-I mean… we’d really like to know your opinion.” Yousef pulls out a chair for her and she sits, fighting the warmth spreading across her face.

Ordered and separate. She watches their video with a blank face and compliments it when it’s finished, asking if they need anything else before escaping to her room, fighting for air.

~

***

Her biggest fear.

Sana rides the tram and is given stares and sneers and there’s only so many times she can stare right back before she has to turn away, she has to let it roll off her shoulders.

Sana wears dark purple lipstick and all black and Vilde tells her perhaps she wouldn’t look as harsh if she wore some color, wore a nude lipstick instead. She looked so pretty that one time in yellow. She might look a little sweeter, a little more approachable.

Sana takes an elbow to the cheek during a basketball game and of course it wasn’t intentional and of course the referee didn’t call it even though she ended up falling to the court with a bruise forming.

Sana walks through school, conscious of who’s in front of her and who’s behind her and brings her lunch from home so no brave food service worker can have the opportunity to spit in her food.

Sana smiles at her teachers when they hand back her assignments with helpful feedback and suggestions for future reference and bites her tongue when she compares her work to some of her classmates, noting the similarities but the lower marks she received instead.

Sana comes home from basketball practice and runs into Elias and his friends messing around with their phones and selfie sticks and discussing police brutality and her stomach falls to the floor, her eyes sting, her breath catches. 

They greet her loudly, smiling and excited and she’s falling apart inside.

Yousef’s smiling at her, always smiling at her, holding a selfie stick, his hood pulled up over his hair and _I feel it coming._

“Did your basketball practice go well?” He looks genuinely interested and all she can do is nod, swallowing against a lump in her throat before disappearing to her room.

Her biggest fear.

She buries her head under her pillow, fighting the tears.

***

~

Sana listens to Starboy on repeat, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, hearing the words and seeing nothing but shadows, imagining if she were different. Who would she be, what would she do, what would she look like. Would she still have to prove anything.

If she were more like them. Any of them. Noora or Jamilla. If it really would be easier for her to do this.

~

“Noora is nice.”

Yousef’s eyes snap to hers and Sana holds his gaze, determined to get through this. Elias and the rest of the boys are outside shooting scenery in the little bit of daylight left and Yousef is working on his laptop, editing and responding to comments, and she’s doing this, she needs to do this.

“She’s very nice and very funny.” She scuffs her toe against the carpet. “She’s lived in Madrid and London and has lots of great stories.”

She smiles at him. One he doesn’t return.

“She’s very pretty.” She nods to herself, like she’s confirming that she knows about Noora’s appeal, and there’s something beginning in his expression, something dawning in his eyes, and she hurries to get her point across. That she understands. That it’s okay.

“She’s a good person. She’s one of my best friends.”

It’s okay. She’s okay. Her worlds can combine if they need to. Her friend and her brother's friend. Together. If he.. if they want that, it’s okay.

She nods once and leaves before he can even open his mouth.

She’s always okay. She’s always right. This is easy. It’s fine.

~

“Sanaaaa,” Isak draws out her name with so much fondness, she actually feels herself melt inside a little.

She can’t help but tease him though as his phone chimes and he looks at it with a dopey smile. So far he hasn't even argued with her over their differing answers from the homework tasks.

“Domesticity looks good on you.”

Isak laughs quietly as he glances over at her, rolling his eyes for show. “Even wants to set up a chore wheel.” He actually looks like he’s glowing, like the concept of a chore wheel is the happiest thing to happen to him.

Sana laughs, she’s seen his previous apartment. She knows the actual dirt.

Isak bumps shoulders with her. “You want to come over this weekend? You still haven’t seen the new place. We could get some food if you want. Even would like that too.”

She sighs, pretending like it’s some big hardship. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t shove your chore wheel down my throat.”

“Just wait til it happens to you Sanasol.”

Caught off guard, it takes maybe a second too long for her to react, scoffing, head tilting to the side, looking down at her textbook.

“Right.”

~

Elias sits down at the kitchen table, knocking her foot with his. She huffs, glaring at him, but he’s got that look, that Elias look that means he’s going to say things and she really should have done her homework in her room.

“About the russ-“

“Please just drop it.”

“Sana.”

“Elias.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t need to be.”

Elias tilts his head, meeting her glare with a determined one of his own. “I’m going to though.” He blinks and grins at her then, soft and small and so Elias and Sana can never be angry with him like this. He gestures to her work spread out on the table. “I know you’re my brainy baby sister. Smarter than the rest of us. You can reason your way out of anything.”

She tries to stop it but she smiles anyway, dimples popping out. 

Elias sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I always thought it’d be easier. If you’d gone to Bakka. Then… I don’t know. I’d have had a year to-.”

“I don’t need that,” Sana tells him quietly. _To watch over you_ is the end of that sentence. _To make sure you’re treated fairly, to make sure you’re okay, I just want you to be okay Sana._ They’ve had this conversation before. Many times. When she was 15 and deciding between Nissen and Elvebakken, deciding between science and art, deciding between herself and someone else. Wanting to prove that she could do it. That she’s smart enough, strong enough, capable enough to handle it. To handle the world on her own. That it wouldn’t get her.

“I know,” Elias placates, one of his hands drifting across the table to pat hers. “You’ve never needed me. I’m saying for me…”

They both fall silent Sana turning his words over and over. 

“I do need you,” she begins and he lifts his eyebrows in question. “I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that I can handle myself.”

Elias just stares at her for a minute before sighing heavily, nodding and squeezing her hand. She squeezes back before he lets go and leaves her to her work.

She stares at her textbooks and notes, at her laptop open to her assignment. Her biggest fear.

“My biggest fear,” Sana writes. “Is that I may not know myself.”

~

“Noora is very nice.”

Sana pauses in making herself a cup of tea, turning. Yousef is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, she can hear Elias and the others in the next room, shouting about their youtube channel and views and he’s taking a step towards her.

“What-“

“She’s very nice. She’s very pretty. She’s easy to talk to and has been to interesting places. I’m glad she’s your friend.”

Their eyes meet and hold, her heart pounds away in her chest, before she looks down at her tea, her hands gripping the counter.

Yousef comes nearer to where she’s stood. Slowly and carefully places his hand next to hers. Not touching but. She can feel him. _Just a simple touch and it can set you free._

“Noora is very nice.” He speaks quietly, his voice flowing over her like a warm balm. “But I hope no one thinks I’m interested in her… in that way.”

She swallows against the tightness in her throat, her eyes focused on their hands, all other sounds disappearing except for her breathing. Her traitor heart speeding up.

A light filling up her chest, warmth spreading outwards to her fingertips.

The air between them is filled with something, something that’s been there, always, but intensified, important, looking her right in the face. Something she’s never dared to look back at. Something that is telling her it won’t be pushed aside or ignored for much longer. His hand next to hers. Patient and waiting and soft.

“Yousef!” They jump apart, Sana almost spilling her tea, air filling her lungs again. “I need your help explaining shit to these idiots!” Elias calls.

She hears him sigh and then he’s gone, walking away and out of the kitchen.

She takes a deep breath, air catching in her lungs when she hears her name and whirls around, her eyes meeting his again.

“I especially wouldn’t want you to think that there’s anything else. With Noora. She’s nice but she’s not… well. She’s not.” He smiles at her warmly again before walking backwards, eyes still on her as he leaves the kitchen.

Sana’s tea grows cold. 

_“She’s not… well. She’s not.”_

_We don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me._

It’s like being up in the air, in the clouds. Filled with warmth and light, her smile is wide on her face, it almost hurts.

It’s like she’s not alone anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
